


Postcards From Your Ghost

by muffin_song



Category: Life Is Strange (Video Game)
Genre: Epistolary, F/F, Spoilers, references to mild recreational drug use
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-20
Updated: 2015-12-24
Packaged: 2018-05-07 19:08:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,283
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5467724
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/muffin_song/pseuds/muffin_song
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"The last thing I expected was for you to write back."</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Letters From Your Ghost

**Author's Note:**

  * For [radiophile](https://archiveofourown.org/users/radiophile/gifts).



October 25, 2013

Dear Chloe,

Well, here goes: This sucks. The end, love Max.

No, that’s not really what I’m trying to say. Dammit, now I have eraser marks over everything.

I love you. I miss you. I’m so fucking pissed at you for talking me into letting Nathan murder you. I said I wasn’t going to lose you again, and then guess what I did. Same ole reliable Max, I guess.

You’re probably wondering why I’m doing this, since express mail to the afterlife is hella expensive. Your mom was actually the one that came up with it – said it might make me feel better. It shouldn’t be Joyce’s job when she’s grieving to try to make her daughter’s flakey best friend feel better, but you know your mom. I show up at your door, and next thing I know she’s making me pancakes. I said she really didn’t have to, but I think she felt better having something to do. I get that.

The hardest part of this (okay, understatement of the year) is that as far as everyone else is concerned, none of this happened. Your mom is so kind, but it’s hard to stop thinking that she hates me for not getting in touch with you sooner. As far as she’s concerned, the first time I saw you in five years was at your funeral.

Anyway, the point is she told me I might feel better if I wrote you a letter, even if you weren’t going to read it. And maybe the reason I am is that’s the only way I’m going to have anything that happened to us be real. Even all the journal pages I wrote for the last week just blinked out of existence.

Sometimes I wonder if the whole thing really is just in my head, and that I’ve finally lost it. But it had to have been real. If I let go of that, then I really think I am going to lose my mind.

So yeah. I love you. I miss you. This sucks.

Yours,

Super Max

 

* * *

 

_November 1, 2013_

_Dear sick-ass psycho fucker,_

_SCREW YOU. Who the fuck gets off on sending prank letters pretending to be a dead person? Even better, who gets so turned on by it that they go as far as to study and copy my (deceased) best friend’s handwriting?_

_Since you seem to be out of the loop, I’ll make this simple: Max Caufield is dead._

_God, this whole week has been so fucked up. But Max…it had something to do with Max using her rewind power to avoid Nathan’s bullet. It was like the universe had it out for Max, and no matter what we did, we couldn’t stop the tornado. And Max…God, Max, Rachel, everyone I love is too good for this world._

_(By the way, just in case you’re secretly one of the Prescotts out for revenge or whatever, I hope Nathan is getting the shit kicked out of him Shawshank Redemption style. Not that I expect this letter to go anywhere. I mean, the return address you gave me was “Max Caufield, 1234 Somewhere Street, Nowhereville, USA.”)_

_Rewinding never happened like that before. It was always Max did her magic, and I got to hear about what happened later if I was lucky. But that last time Max rewound, I was there in the girls’ bathroom at Blackwell too.  I mean, I was the first time around, but it was like Friday Chloe’s brain was suddenly in Monday Chloe._

_I knew how it was supposed to go – I get up into Nathan’s shit, he pulls out a gun, Max steps in to stop him, and it’s a freaking miracle she gets to the fire alarm before he can shoot either of us. But this time, she REALLY looked at me. As far as my brain knew it had just been a few minutes since we had been at the lighthouse in the storm, Max saying she was finally going to do the right thing. But there in the bathroom, it was like she was begging me to let her make things right this time._

_And…goddammit, I just LET HIM shoot her. My best friend, maybe the girl I was on the verge of falling in love with, and I LET HIM SHOOT HER. If that doesn’t make me the most fucked up person on the planet, I don’t know what does._

_Max is too good for this town. Fuck, she’ s too good for this world, which really doesn’t say much about Arcadia Bay. I walk down the street every day and I see people doing hella stupid shit, and I’m so pissed they’re here and Max is gone. Why does some high as fuck Blackwell trust-fund kid get to just sit in the park and laugh at squirrels when there’s no more Max?_

_Of course, it’s cause Max couldn’t live with herself if these assholes had to die for her sake. And…the truth is I was selfish enough to just let the whole town get bowled over by a tornado or a bunch of dead whales. But I couldn’t do that to Max – she’s too good, and I couldn’t make her live and know that it was all her fault. She was the one with magic rewind powers, but when we were in the bathroom again, she was letting me make the choice._

_I don’t know why I’m telling you this, asshole. Congratulations, you have written proof that Chloe Price is certifiably crazy. You’ve sure killed my promising career in...I don’t know, something. Getting high? Breaking and entering? Haven’t decided what I would major in for college if anyone was ever stupid enough to let me in._

_The point is: Assuming anyone actually reads the mail that gets sent to made-up addresses, stay the fuck away from me._

_P.S. To the real Max, wherever you are: All of that right back at you._

 

* * *

 

November 10, 2013

Dear Chloe,

Wow. I don’t know where to start with this.

When I got your letter…even with what we went through, that was the first time I really thought I had lost it. Even just the envelope, there was no way anyone else could have such crappy handwriting. (Sorry.) I mean, you’re the only person I know who can make an H look like a T.

Even with everything that happened, this was Being Scared Shitless version 6.0, or whatever number comes after altering space time and almost getting murdered by your insane photography teacher. Every time I think about that last rewind and not doing anything, I feel like I’m going to hyperventilate or puke or something.   The last thing I expected was for you to write back.

In my head, I already had your whole speech about how a real friend wouldn’t let this happen to someone they cared about. I was so ready for it that when your first line was “SCREW YOU” and then followed by a bunch of other stuff, I was pretty thrown off. Er…sorry to hear I’m a sick-ass pyscho fucker in your eyes? I guess it makes sense if you’re convinced someone’s just trying to punk you.

Chloe, I don’t know what to think. Maybe I should be giving the pyscho fucker treatment right back to you, because for all I know someone is just pulling one on me ME.   But I haven’t told anyone about my rewind power – definitely not the school counselor (even if she’s doing her best to redeem the name of shrinks everywhere). I mean, I didn’t even write about it in my journal. I really did just send that letter because I needed some way to talk to you, even if it was in my head. And the truth is it did make me feel better, to write down on paper what we did. For something that got erased from reality, it made it a little more real.

If you haven’t figured it out, I’m living in a world where YOU died, not me – you begged me to sacrifice you and save Arcadia Bay. And…I did. Still REALLY don’t know if I did the right thing. I try to tell myself I did every time I walk past the Two Whales diner and see people just going about their business. You know, being alive and stuff.

So whoever I’m talking to, are you just left over from some alternate reality mess I made? Or am I left over from your world? I don’t know, maybe you’re not *my* Chloe. Too much “timey wimey” messing with my head, no idea how this stuff works. Not convinced it matters.

It took me a week to do it, but I’m writing back to you because I can’t do both at the same time. I can’t deal with helping my dead best friend’s mom go through her things while also reading fresh off the press letters from you in your crappy handwriting. So…taking a leap of faith here, because this wouldn’t be the craziest thing that’s happened to either of us lately. Let me prove to you that I am who I say I am:

1\. The band name we made up when we were 13 was Black Karma. I think you talked me into the “black” part cause “Karma” on its own didn’t sound very edgy. (Thinking back, shoulda just called ourselves “Crappy Fate.” I guess it was a good thing we never got around to writing our first song).

2\. Okay, you’re right, my mom and probably half of Arcadia Bay Middle School knew about that one. You were always the one who said when we watched Big (remember, the one with Tom Hanks where they danced on the giant keyboard?) that we should have some kind of code phrase for emergencies. Sorry I didn’t take you more seriously. What else…you like making fun of the dinosaurs, but you can’t get through The Land Before Time without bawling.

3\. One time when we were up at 3 AM, I called Bongo the cat “Mr. Chubbywubbs”, and you couldn’t stop laughing.

4\. The last time I saw you was the first time I really kissed you. (You kissed me back).

Love,

Max

 

* * *

 

_November 12, 2013_

_Dear (maybe not so) Sick Ass Psycho Fucker_ ,

_1\. Black ≠ dark. I mean, look at Tuxedo Mask, he wears all black and he’s the sappiest one in the show. Or Mr. Goodie Two Shoes himself, Luke Skywalker. (Sorry, still Team Jabba all the way. That was a guy who knew how to throw a party.)_

_2\. No comment, Ms. I Try To Pretend I’m Too Good For It But Always Cry Through Titanic. (And not just the old people hugging each other in bed, you’re worst with the parts with Leo)._

_3\. You uh…had to be there. Which, um, I guess you were. Assuming that this isn’t my brain having one last hurrah before completely going on the fritz._

_4\. Nice to see you show some initiative outside of Truth and Dare. …okay, you know I hate emoticons, but that’s the first time I really wish I could’ve put a wink in there. It’s ironic that we’re stuck using pen and paper._

_…sorry, for all that I’m a total spazz most of the time, I’m really, REALLY bad at this. Rachel was the first person who made me feel like a human again after my dad died. When she disappeared, I didn’t think there was a force in the universe that could. And then…Max Caufield came back, and it was like nothing had changed, except everything had changed. And it wouldn’t have been the same as Rachel because you weren’t Rachel and she wasn’t you, but that didn’t matter because you were Max, and we were Max and Chloe, and suddenly that meant something it never had before._

_What the hell am I saying. What the hell am I doing. Oh God oh God Oh God MAX. Where are you??? I keep trying your cell phone, and of course it’s out of service. I even went to Blackwell, and duh, of course you’re not there. You’d be proud of me, I even got a stranger to read out loud a sentence from your letter, just so I could prove to myself it was real. (The part about Bongo. Sure as fuck wasn’t going to let them read anything else)._

_So if you’re not just in my head, and you’re not here…Max,_ _where are you?_ _??????_

_Love always,_

_Chloe_

_P.S. Please don’t take a week to write back this time. I don’t my nerves can take it, and I’m way too broke to get the amount of weed it would take._

 

* * *

 

November 14, 2013

Dear Chloe,

Mail came at 4 today, and the last mailbox in town that takes outgoing stuff is at 5, so sorry if this makes even less sense than usual. But I wanted to make sure I got something back in the mail to you. (Not that the post office should be able to deliver mail to Bumblefuck, USA, but I’m REALLY trying not to think about this too hard).

I used to think dying was like being asleep forever. When I was a kid what scared me most was not being able to talk to that person again, ever. Why is it then that I’m sitting out by the quad with the timer ticking and no idea what to write? Sorry if everything that comes after this is verbal diarrhea.

I don’t know if I’m the same Max from your reality. It sounds like in your world, I was the one who had to die to make the storm stop. Not to sound morbid, but it’s kind of a relief to think of it like that. It’s not that I WANT to get shot by Nathan, but in some ways that’s easier than having to deal with everything afterward. Hey, do you think there’s a dead!Chloe and a dead!Max somewhere, skipping through heaven and laughing after how they got off easy? I mean, not easy, cause dead and everything. But without having to live everyday wondering if they did the right thing.

Not that I think Chloe in my world got off easy AT ALL. Geez, wasn’t kidding about the verbal diarrhea. I’d throw out this page and start over except I’m gonna run out of time. Ignore that last paragraph – these aren’t the droids you’re looking for.

Trying this again. What I’m trying to say is: If your Max did ask you to let her die to save Arcadia Bay, then you shouldn’t blame yourself. If that was her choice, you can’t blame yourself for letting her make it. I can’t say what I would really do in that situation. Everyone wants to think they’d be a hero, but who knows. I’d like to think if it was either me or the lives of everyone in town, I’d be brave enough to accept fate or whatever.

Shit, the mail guy is coming down the block. Chloe, wherever you are, be good to yourself, okay? Things have already sucked so much for you, I just want you to be alright. You’re so much more amazing than you let yourself think - you’re funny and brave and tough as nails, and the best BFF I could ever ask for.

Sealing this letter now. I love you.

Yours,

Max

P.S. Almost forgot, here’s the selfie I took today!

 

* * *

 

_November 16, 2013_

_Dear Max,_

_Wow, this is weird. Like, good weird (REALLY good weird), but still weird. Fuck that, this is AWESOME. I get you back. Again. I don’t care if this is slower than dial up, and I don’t care what reality this is. I have you back. Every time I think about it, it’s like I’m stagediving. (No Max, these don’t count as emoticons if I draw them. See? My smiley faces have eyebrows and everything.)_

_Got your selfie! Damn girl, hate to think you’ve gone all goth on my account. Is that a new top? You look good. Like, really good. If you were any closer than a reality away from me, you’d be in trouble._

_Since our friends at the US Postal Service seem to have the magic touch, I wanted to see if I could get anything bigger than 1/16 of an inch through the mail. So…let me know if you get this?_

_Right, onto the life and death stuff. Dunno if I’ll ever be able to forgive myself for not stepping in when Nathan shot you, but thanks for saying all of that anyway. It’s nice to know that in some universe you’re still doing your Max Caufield thing, angst and all._

_The same goes for you: Don’t beat yourself up on account of my sorry ass, K? Just trust me, it’s not worth it. Sorry, you know how much I suck at this stuff._

_Anyway, how’s life in your Arcadia? Can’t say there’s much besides the normal shit around here. Not to be a total buzzkill, but I did go to your funeral. Your parents wanted you to be buried next to your mom’s sister, so they had the funeral here in Arcadia Bay. For what it’s worth, I think you really did (do?) have people who care about you at Blackwell. I saw Kate Marsh and your boyfriend Warren there, and they both were real with all of the stuff they said – none of that fake “she was an angel” crap._

_I’m gonna see if I can drive up to Seattle this weekend and spend some time with your folks – I know that’s pretty fucked up when I still have you like this, but they’re good people and I think you’d want me to do it._

_Oh, and I saw Ms. Grant there. You know I think the teachers at Blackwell Academy are a bunch of wankers, but I think she actually meant it when she asked how I was doing, if I needed any help with GED stuff. Told me to come see her any time I wanted._

_I feel like I’m high, Max, but in a good way for once. Write back as soon as you can, okay? Who knows, maybe next time I’ll be putting me in the mail._

_Yours,_

_Chloe_

 

* * *

 

November 18, 2013

Dear Chloe,

Got it!!!! Man, I thought these were all out of print, where did you find Fullmetal Alchemist stuff in Arcadia Bay???? Al was always my favorite character. It’s so cute that even though he gets stuck in a robot body, he always acts like Ed got the worse part of the deal. I put it on my key ring.

Glad you’re doing okay. Thanks for looking after my folks – I called them after I got your letter. It was awkward trying to work the List of Things I Want to Tell You Before I Die into normal talk at 7 on a Sunday night. ^^;;; I think they got the gist, though. Your mom is doing okay – I don’t think she knows HOW to do anything but soldier on. David’s actually been pretty cool. Like, don’t get me wrong, that surveillance stuff was fucked up and this does NOT excuse it, but he really did seem upset about your death. Er, does. I don’t think I told you, but I saw him in a reality where Mark Jefferson killed you at the junkyard that last night. He helped get me out. When I told him Mark Jefferson was your murderer, he shot him. Like…okay, that’s also messed up, but I don’t think he hates you as much as you think.

Oh, and Nathan is getting charged for your murder and Rachel’s. Not even daddy can buy him out of this one. Jefferson also got nailed. So I guess everything’s normal, except the school is going nuts. Not exactly good publicity, and obviously the Prescotts won’t be donating any more money. But I think it’s gonna be good – this town has needed to get un-Prescotted for a while.

With Mark Jefferson Jefferson being arrested, no one knows what to do with the Everyday Heroes competition. They already had the big thing in San Francisco, but I guess the organizers felt bad and are doing a Special Consideration round for Blackwell. The deadline’s in in a week. When they first announced it I still thought you were dead and it felt selfish to even think about it, but now I’m wondering if I should try…?

Crap, they really don’t give you a lot of time between when the mail comes and when the outgoing stuff gets collected. I made copies of some stuff I’ve been messing around with this week…I dunno, do any of them not suck?

Yours,

Max

P.S. What do you mean if you were any closer than a reality away I’d be in trouble? ;P

 

* * *

 

_November 20, 2013_

_Dear Max,_

_Glad you like the keychain. Did you ever watch Brotherhood? I didn’t think anything could beat the first anime, but it was hella awesome._

_Your photos are safely on the other side of space time. You are WAY too hard on yourself. I don’t know all the artsy crap about photos, but even I can tell you’re onto something. I really like the one of the lighthouse. You managed to get how…safe it feels whenever I look at it. Safe isn’t the right word, safe sounds boring. Sanctuary? You’re the wordsy, O Smart Blackwell one._

_I think me and the step…guy are like fire and water. Ying and yang, you know? That’s pretty cool he went all vengeful for me, though. (Mark Jefferson can rot in hell). Anyway, I laid off on him tonight for your sake. Seriously, thanks for checking in on my mom – you’re right, she doesn’t stop for anything, but that doesn’t mean she doesn’t hurt like fuck. I guess there’s no way you could show her any of this without getting thrown into the looney bin, huh?_

_And to answer your question, I mean if I could have my wicked way with you, you’d definitely be questioning your straightness. Dammit Max, why are you so far away? Trust me that I’m working on fitting into a priority mail envelopes so I can get my delinquent hands on you._

_Yours,_

_Chloe_

 

* * *

 

_November 25, 2013_

 

_Hey stranger,_

_Okay, I guess I can’t expect you to be stalking the mailroom on a weekend, but drop me a line here? It’s been five days and I haven’t heard from you._

_Sorry, wasn’t trying to freak you out about the whole making you question your straightness thing. And I’m not just trying to add you to my list of boytoys (girltoys?) I loved Rachel – I don’t think even at the beginning it was just as a friend. It’s like I said when I wrote that letter a few weeks ago – nothing was ever supposed to replace Rachel and I don’t think anything can. But then you came back and I’m still kicking myself that I didn’t have a clue how I felt about you until we were out of time._

_Look, no pressure if that kiss by the lighthouse was a one-time deal. (Not counting the first one, I was waaaaay too chicken shit). I’d be honored just to keep being your BFF. Even that’s more than a punk like me deserves, but I’m not gonna question your taste here._

_Anyway, just let me know you’re still out there? Please?_

_Yours,_

_Chloe_

* * *

 

_December 5, 2013_

 

_Max -_

_I’m really not doing well here. Please, just write me back, okay? Dunno if I can deal with another day of wondering if you blinked out of existence._

_Forever,_

_Chloe_

 

* * *

 

December 13, 2013

Dear Chloe,

PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE TELL ME YOU’RE GETTING THIS. This is the third time I’ve tried to write you. The last two times I wrote back my letters got returned. And the last one came back…weird. I don’t know how to describe it. When I opened it up, the letters in most of the words were all mixed up, and the photos I sent were blacked out. It was hella creepy.

I don’t know if reality is starting to charge us for all the long distance reality calling, so I’m keeping this to what I can fit on a postcard. You didn’t freak me out with what you wrote – I was the one who obsessed with Trinity in The Matrix, remember? I just wish you would come out and say stuff instead of pretending you’re too cool for all of it.

Almost out of space. If the inter-reality mail service get all screwy you can’t check out on me, okay? I need you to be alright.

Yours,

Max

 

* * *

 

_December 15, 2013_

 

_Max,_

_Oh God oh God thank God. You have no idea how freaked out I’ve been._

_If the mail is getting through to you, then there has to be some way that I can. I’m not going to let us get split up again. I am DONE with all of that crap. I-_

_[Message truncated]_

 

* * *

 

December 17, 2013

 

Chloe,

Seriously relieved to hear from you too. Everything after the first couple of lines is all garbled, but I’m REALLY glad you’re still out there.

I don’t think you can come to my reality. Even if you made it here, my universe has it OUT for you. It would be getting stuck on train tracks and ricocheting bullets all over again. (Maybe the events changed a little if your reality had it out for me instead, but you get the idea).

I have some more bad news: the keychain you gave me is gone. I know I didn’t drop it, cause it was definitely on my night stand when I fell asleep and-

[message truncated]

 

* * *

 

_December 19, 2013_

 

_Max,_

_Fuck. Should have known nothing good can last. Some of the pictures you’ve been sending me have started just turning black. Even the first ones._

_Max, I’m trying to hold it together here like you said, but I’ve always sucked at that. You deserve so much better than emo ole Chloe – inter-reality mail goes wonky, and I go all Bella fucking Swan. Ever since my dad died, it’s like I’m damaged goods – nothing sticks any more. I –_

 

* * *

 

December 21, 2013

 

Chloe,

Gonna keep this short, but you are NOT damaged goods. You have been put through so much shit, and it’s like you just keep burning brighter. “What doesn’t kill you makes you stronger” is stupid, it’s more like, “Bad stuff doesn’t kill Mighty Chloe Price so joke’s on you for trying, universe.” I-

 

* * *

 

_September 15, 2014_

 

_Hey Max,_

_Well, gonna keep writing these until you get sick of me. Or until the post office gets sick of letters with junk addresses, but with the return address I’ve got, the joke is on them. Losers. I know I used to make fun of you for journaling all the time, but it’s like writing to you has become my journal._

_The Bay Area has this rap as being hella cool all year round, so I was NOT prepared by how miserably hot it’s been this week. I swear, if we didn’t have the windows open for outside seating I’d be more burned than the garlic bread. It’s not bad, though. Heat makes me feel like I’m alive, you know?_

_People watching definitely does NOT get old._ _Sorry, writing this on my break._

_It’s coming up on a year ago that you first came back into my life. There’s been so many parts of it that have really, really sucked. But you and Rachel…I’d like to think that somewhere, you’re watching over me and fighting over who gets to seduce me. There was no good reason for either of you to put up with my bullshit, but you both in your own ways made me feel like a person again._

_Sorry, not trying to get too sappy on you about my Lifetime movie. I’m definitely NOT the model millennial. I mean, you have NO idea how baked I got last night (spoiler alert: It was awesome!!!!!). But I’ve noticed in the last week or so that there are things I give a fuck about. I mean, not a ton, but a few. Not the things I expected, but there you go. Like the old hippie who runs this dive is actually pretty cool when you really sit down with him. Probably needs more time with a shrink and less falling into his beer, but he’s a good guy. And don’t laugh at me, but I kind of like working here. I used to think “Spoken Word Artistes” at open mic night were pretentious as fuck…okay, sometime that’s true. But some of them, and some of the musicians are really, REALLY good. Even the artsy fartsy jazz stuff._

_When my truck broke down in Oakland last December, I was NOT looking forward to spending more than a day in a second-rate San Francisco. But maybe you and Rachel were looking after me. That, or I’m crappier than I thought at fucking myself over._

_Okay, Italian dude is very sweet, but does NOT know anything about sound systems. Gotta go. Love you._

_Always,_

_Chloe_

 

* * *

 

September 30, 2014

 

Chloe!!!! Chloe, I never thought I would hear from you again! I had no idea if you got my last letter. There are no words (or even emoticons) for how glad I am you’re okay.

I didn’t get all the context, but it sounds like your truck didn’t make it to L.A., huh? But that’s awesome you’ve found someplace cool. I never got why you stuck around Arcadia Bay for so long…viva sweet adult freedom, huh?

Er, not that I can really talk, given that this midterm has me chained to my desk in the library. Oh yeah, I’m in art school now. I’m kind of glad I went to Blackwell for a year, it prepared me for how to deal with people who think a lot of themselves. :P Seriously, I’m learning a lot about how to be a better photographer.

I also have a confession to make. The girl from my Art History class kind of asked me out. At first I was going to give her my whole, “I’m so flattered, but I’m straight!” speech, but it was like the words wouldn’t come out. And the truth is she did make me feel kind of tongue-tied.

Ugh, why am I going on about my stupid freshman drama? I feel like you’re my mom and I’m asking you permission to date. Which given you and me is even weirder. If my Chloe…if you were still here with me in this reality, I think we could have at least had a chance at something more than just being BFFs. It’s weird to think of you like I would think of this girl Megan, or how I’d think of someone like Warren when I was trying to decide if they were boyfriend material. Cause you’re just Chloe, y’know? Except that suddenly meant something totally different, and kissing you felt like the most natural thing in the world.

Geez, I hear from you for the first time in nearly a year, and it’s back to the verbal diarrhea. I hope you’re relieved that I’m still Max Caufield ^^;; Seriously, I’m so so so so so so so glad you’re doing okay. Maybe all I can do is wave pompoms or whatever at you from the next reality over. Know that I’m doing that with all of my nerdy heart.

Love,

Max

 

* * *

 

_October 6, 2014_

 

_Hey Max,_

_WELCOME BACK!!!!! I don’t think I ever expected to get another letter from you again. I’ve been grinning like a loon and whistling all day – I think people at work are assuming I got laid or something._

_I’m glad you’re okay too. I wouldn’t say I really have my shit together that much more than before (let’s just say my landlord is a BITCH), but I’m glad you think so._

_You should TOTALLY go out with that girl. Seriously, I’m gonna give you crap if you chicken out now. Max, I’ll always love you. And I’m not just saying that in a BFF way, even though you’re that too. But I’m not gonna make you sit around waiting for me when I’m already dead (at least in your world). Hey, maybe I’m “growing” or whatever after all. Will have to celebrate with a hit when I get home._

_Still…everything was so fucked up last year. I caught on pretty quick that you were even more than the Max you were when we were 13. I wish I had more than a week to get to know that Max. (You, my friend, got off lucky). Okay, enough with the emo stuff. And please sweep that girl off her feet, or I’m never gonna let you live in down._

_So I noticed something funny today. The pictures you sent me last year, they all turned to black within a week or so of when we got cut off. Couldn’t get myself to throw them out – even the weird black paper reminded me of you. But when I was going through them this now, the picture of the lighthouse was back. (Did you ever enter that anywhere? It was seriously good). Not all the way like a regular picture, but it’s definitely changing._

_Break’s over.   Knock ‘em dead, Super Max._

_Your always,_

_Chloe_

 

* * *

 

October 8, 2014

 

Hey Chloe,

My “date” ended up being a total bust. Megan is really awesome, but it was clear pretty right away that we weren’t girlfriends material. Girlfriends. That’s not as weird to say as you’d think. She was a REALLY good kisser.

Class in an hour, but this is important and I wanted to tell you as soon as possible. I never entered that photo because my copy of it also got all weird and black. Which makes no sense whatsoever, but hey, gave up on that a long time ago. But when I was fishing through my stuff last year, I got the same thing: It was really dark, like a Polaroid or whatever that’s developing, but it was the same for me.

Chloe, I have a crazy theory, and I’m so scared of writing it because I don’t want to let either you or me down. What if the lighthouse back in Arcadia Bay is what connects everything? Like, what connects our realities together?

We figured out pretty quickly last year that you couldn’t just call me, and I couldn’t just drop in on you at your mom’s house (at least not after you died). But what if there was a place where there was crossover? I still don’t think you can come to this reality, ’cause the universe would have it out for you again. But what if there’s a universe out there where neither of us had to die to save the town?

I’ll always love you too. I used to mean that like you’re my best friend. But even before I realized that making out with people in lipstick can be hot, I think I loved you more than that. Chloe…it sounds so selfish after everything that’s happened, but I want the chance to know if you and me could be a thing. I’ve put on a brave face for the last year, but I’m sick of just rolling over for the universe’s whims.

Lemme know what you think. I really hope I’m not fucking your life up by writing this.

Yours,

Max

 

* * *

 

_October 10, 2014_

 

_Max,_

_Sorry to hear your date was a bust, but I give you full points for participation.   You, my young Padawan, get your first lesbo badge. (Don’t make that face, you know I don’t mean it in a bad way)._

_So I have a modest proposal for your humble consideration. Maybe you’re onto something about the lighthouse. I’m supposed to visit my mom next week. I know this is short notice, but can you meet me at the lighthouse at 7 next Saturday night?_

_If you haven't noticed, I'm kind of a selfish brat.  It fucking KILLED me to do the "right thing" last year and let you die.  So godammit if there's a way we can have it all, then I'm fucking taking it.  
_

_If you'll have me.  Although gotta be honest, I'm dying to find out if you and me could be a thing.  
_

_Always,_

_Chloe_

 

* * *

 

October 12, 2014

 

Road trip is ON. Wouldn’t miss it for the world.

I love you.

-Max

 

 

 

* * *

 


	2. Postscript

From the Blackwell Student Bulletin

BLACKWELL POOL BREAK IN CONTINUES FOR FIFTH CONSECUTIVE YEAR

By Natalie Crusher (Class of 2021)

October 25, 2019 - 

For the fifth year in a row, it appears that an unknown person or persons has broken into the Blackwell student pool. While such such break-ins occasionally happen, what makes this incident unusual is the consistency of the date.

"Even if we do get a repeat event, it usually disappears in a year or two cause kids graduate," says David Madsen, head of Blackwell security. Blackwell security is currently investigating whether an Arcadia Bay resident could be responsible.

Throughout the series of incidents, no significant damage has ever been reported to either the pool itself or the locker room facilities. The only material evidence left at the scene each year is a post-it note. The most recent note reads: "Sharks 2, Otters 3."


End file.
